


CSM at Starbucks

by StrugholdMiningCo



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrugholdMiningCo/pseuds/StrugholdMiningCo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of CSM fluff that I conjured up while responding to a fanfic challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CSM at Starbucks

Author: SyndicateGirl Archive: Yes, definitely! But please keep my headers attached and let me know where it is if you can. Thanks!   
Also archived at: strugholdminingco.info.  
Spoilers:   
Rating: PG   
Classification:  Response to fanfic challenge: CSM goes to Starbucks. Under 1000 words.    
Summary: CSM heads to Starbucks and gets some unexpected inspiration.   
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters are Chris Carter's and 1013 Productions', not mine, unfortunately; no infringement is intended. Please don't sue - I'm a writer, and have no money! :D

** TITLE: Starbucks Inspiration **

**   
**

He glanced up from the blank sheet of paper, and his eyes grazed across the Starbucks.Why couldn’t he come up with a story?

CSM was convinced that it was his lack of typewriter, but some of history’s best writing had been authored via pen.

He was determined to try. It had to be better than his last foray into publishing - damn Pivotal Publications.

No, this time he would hold out for a publishing company that treated his work with respect. Well, if he ever got a second chance. Maybe writing the old fashioned way would fix his writer’s block.

He needed inspiration.

A harried businessman rushed past an elderly lady, sliding rudely ahead of her in line. CSM shook his head - no, it would be difficult to base an entire story around an ungentlemanly jackass.

Things had changed since he was a young man. No more gentlemen, no more ladies, no more pleasant society. Just rude, selfish, androgynous humans with chips on their shoulders.

“Maybe they drink too much coffee,” he thought bitterly.

A group of young mothers and their brood plopped down in the seats beside his table. Each trying to outdo the others, in their loudest voices, as they traded stories about the stresses of being phenomenal mothers.

Ironically they did so as their children cried out for attention they never received. CSM couldn’t help but snort at the irony.

After a few more minutes of wailing, screaming, and loudly argued maternal superiority, CSM couldn’t take it. He got up and moved to a table in the corner. The women looked offended.

CSM stared down at his paper, and strained to listen to the conversations around him.

“Aristotle’s true thoughts on the matter…” CSM glanced over inconspicuously at the pretentious student.

His wide eyed girlfriend leaned forward, “Wow, really, Ben? That’s fascinating…”

CSM gave up on that conversation, and turned his attention to the man on the cell phone, blaring out stock quotes, and advising the person on the other end of the phone to get his head out of his nether regions.

“Venti chai tea latte, nonfat, upside down, low foam, low temp, with 2 pumps sugar-free vanilla!” The barista’s voice boomed.

“What the hell is that?” CSM thought to himself, wondering if he was boring for having simply ordered a coffee.

CSM watched as another customer waiting at the bar looked around anxiously for the owner of the Venti Chai…whatchamacallit.The young man looked around as though his life depended on this Chai Latte getting to its rightful home.

When the Chai owner didn’t show, “Bar Jockey” (as CSM dubbed him) became increasingly paranoid. He called out the name of the drink, announcing that it was at the bar.

Clearly it bothered Bar Jockey immensely that the tea was still sitting there.

CSM thought it was one of the funnier things he had seen so far, and couldn’t help but smirk.

Finally a woman approached, and Bar Jockey advised her that her tea was ready. He looked visibly relieved when she took it.

Until the next coffee showed up on the bar, then the amusement started anew.

For all of this entertainment, though, CSM had nothing to show for it. He stared down at the blank page, willing words to appear. Publishable words. Nothing came to him.

“What are you having, Mare?”

The voice sounded familiar, very familiar, and CSM looked up, his eyes moving down the long line.

There stood Marita, reading a file. Next to her stood Alex Krycek.

Of all the places for them to be on a Saturday morning.

And together, no less.

Why would they be together, working on a Saturday when the Syndicate had not assigned them anything that would require their cooperative efforts?

Marita looked up from her file and smiled at Krycek.

What she did next gave CSM the answer as to what they were doing together in this crowded coffeehouse.

She closed the file, slipped it into her bag, and took his right hand in hers.

When the hell had those two started dating?

Wait, was that a ring?

His eyes narrowed in, and he spotted the wedding band on her right hand.

To anyone who didn’t know Krycek’s Russian heritage, the right hand ring would look like just that - a right hand ring.

But CSM knew better.

That was an understated wedding band. She never wore it during Syndicate meetings, so clearly this was meant to be a fairly covert relationship.

When had they gotten married?

Surely it wouldn’t have been here in the US, CSM would have picked up on that without a doubt.

He was trying not to stare, but he found that he couldn’t help himself.

He felt like a voyeur who had just stumbled across a forbidden scene.

Like a spy who had discovered a top secret document.

CSM found himself practically mesmerized as she watched them talk, laugh, and sip their coffees.

As they talked, he scribbled away on the paper in front of him.

Before he knew it, he had penned several pages.

A tale of spies.

Espionage, secret love, sacrifice, meetings in dark alleys…In his version, it was WWII Europe, but the subject matter had a clear inspiration.

And that inspiration was sitting at a table at the other end of the crowded Starbucks.

CSM sat there scribbling away for another hour until Krycek and Marita finally stood.

Krycek helped her on with her coat, in a surprising show of gallantry, and they slipped out into the snow.

They were still holding hands when they walked past the large picture window where CSM sat.

They never did see him that day, and they had no idea that CSM knew their secret.

But they did have sneaking suspicions of his knowledge when they read a short story months later titled “Secret Government, Secret Marriage: The Espionage Adventure of Marta and Alec” by Raul Bloodworth.


End file.
